Tangled Perceptions
by BrechtianSchnauzer
Summary: first story! small Lizzie/Darcy scenes that should have been in the book. please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Mr. Darcy is a puzzle.

This is the fourth time I've caught him looking at me. I can't imagine why--he's so cold, but then again it could be the company I'm keeping, for Mr. Wickham is currently talking to me. Oh, what a very eager fellow, with such an endless amount of stories. And very humble, much unlike Mr. Darcy. Perhaps this supposed jealousy is the reason for that stony glare Mr. Darcy had kept trained on Wickham when they met at Meryton today, yet surely there cannot be a perfect reason.

"Miss Bennet, are you ill?"

Mr. Wickham is looking at me oddly; maybe he's noticed that I haven't been paying close attention.

"Well, I—"

"Perhaps a refreshment is in order?" He cuts me off, for he is very eager to please.

I smile. "That sounds wonderful."

As he disappears into the crowd, I see Mr. Darcy staring at me. Quite honestly, he should learn to be more polite. Hoping to avoid him, I walk out of the parlor, into the room where all my sisters are dancing. I stop at the doorframe to watch them when someone bumps into me from behind.

"Oh—"

"I'm sorry, I—"

Mr. Darcy is staring at me, standing much too close for comfort. I hurriedly take a step back, and see a faint blush tint his cheeks. He steps back as well.

"Miss Bennet, I'm so sorry – I didn't see you there."

I fix him with a look, but then I decide that I'll be polite.

"It's quite all right. Are you enjoying yourself here?"

"You know I do not find such parties entertaining, and the society here is somewhat… lacking."

I suppress a sigh. He is really much too prideful and if it wasn't for Bingley, he would be much hated, if he isn't already. Even my own mother noticed his cold disposition and immediately removed him from her list of possible bachelors.

Trying to deviate away from this specific subject, I try, "Well, I was just talking to Mr. Wickham."

"Yes, I saw. And?"

"Truthfully, I was beginning to tire of his tales of chivalry."

No, that's not right. I was quite enjoying his company, and his stories of humble beginnings. But something about Mr. Darcy always makes me lose my tongue around him. I frown slightly, trying to figure out how to back out of this mess, and I see Mr. Darcy begin to smile.

X

She frowns slightly, and her thoughts seem to be warring. Quite frankly, I thought she liked Mr. Wickham, so perhaps she lost her tongue. But she's so witty, that seems impossible.

"Mr. Darcy, do you know Mr. Wickham?"

"I know him quite well." Too well.

"Do you respect him?"

No. Of course not. Not after what he did to poor Georgiana, but I can hardly tell Miss Bennet this, and certainly not at a ball.

"Mr. Wickham has had the—"

But I am interrupted, thank God, by Bingley, with Jane Bennet close behind. His face is flushed with excitement, with a genuine smile brightening the air.

"Darcy, wouldn't you love to dance?"

"Bingley, you know quite well that I do not dance." Why does he choose to make a public spectacle of my dislikes?

Then Miss Bennet looks at me, and I suddenly know why I have such a desire to be in her company. Her face shows an eager smile, and her eyes are bright with mischief. She is, simply, beautiful.

I take a deep breath. "Miss Bennet, care to dance?"


	2. Chapter 2

(A/N) I know that the first part is in the book, but I really couldn't help describing Rosings and Lady Catherine :) …basically just a filler for the next chapter :P

Mr. Collins irks me.

I've been forced to sit at his table and listen to him recount tales of Lady Catherine and her magnificent house, and I am, quite frankly, bored to death. It doesn't interest me that Lady Catherine has a house with so many windows it seems unbelievable, and chimney pieces worth more than my house. No, I do not want to have to meet her, but it seems there is no other choice. As we make the walk across her grounds from Mr. Collins' small property, and I surprisedly am not disappointed. At least she has the money to pay for decent gardeners. But I change my mind when we round the corner of the path and her house comes in to view, and I almost laugh. Almost. The entire facade is covered by hideous windows with bars across them like a prison. But as the rest of my group gasps appreciatively, I can only play along.

"Oh Lizzie, isn't it wonderful?" Mariah is awestruck at the grandeur.

"Yes, quite amazing, but it really seems a bit much. Look how many windows she has!"

As we enter the house, I am again struck at how drab it is. While any house of such size could easily be called beautiful, the walls are dark, with shadows lurking in the corners, and thick drapes block out much of the natural light of the windows. We enter a dark, dank sitting room, and I get my first view of Lady Catherine. No wonder her house is so dreary -- the old woman looks kin to a vulture as she glares at our party with beady eyes. Mr. Collins hovers on the threshold and she barks out.

"Come in, you poor, deprived souls. I wouldn't make you stand there all day."

She probably would. We sit in large, overstuffed chairs with high backs, and I am very uncomfortable. It is sure to be a long evening. Mr. Collins tries to make polite conversation, but he breaks off under her glare.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce the new guests?"

Mr. Collins flushes a bright pink, and Charlotte scrambles to make up for her husband. "I'm sorry. This is my father, my sister Mariah, and my friend Elizabeth Bennet."

Lady Catherine opens her mouth to respond, but is cut short by the entrance of a maid supporting a rather sickly girl about my age. I stare openly, then remember my manners. This must be the famed Anne de Bourgh, though I am quite underwhelmed. She is a pale, sickly creature with gangly arms and small, teary eyes. This is no surprise, of course, because she has been brought up in a house such as this. I suppose she is faring quite nicely. Charlotte starts talking to her, and Mr. Collins tries his luck with Mr. Lucas, leaving Mariah, Lady Catherine, and me sitting in silence. Mariah shrinks back in her chair, obviously afraid of what Lady Catherine might ask, so she turns on me.

"Do you have sisters, Miss Bennet?"

"Yes, I am the eldest but one."

"Are any of them out?"

Oh dear, she's not going to like this. "Yes, mum, all of them."

"_All_ of them? Your mother must be quite busy. Miss Bennet, do you play?"

"Yes, mum."

"Are you very good?"

"No, mum, I play very ill indeed."

"Then you must practice. Ann has an extra instrument in her rooms that you may use."

"Thank you, you are very kind."

The rest of the evening continues on like this until Mr. Collins suggests that it may be time to retire. Lady Catherine gives him a piercing stare, but agrees, and a carriage is sent for. I breathe a sigh of relief upon returning home, and everyone returns to their respective rooms.

I spend the better half of the next morning talking with Charlotte, but the sun comes out around lunch, and I can't help but take a walk around Mr. Collins' property. I walk by the small lake and the clusters of flowers, and am just passing the small orchard when Mariah comes running, her skirts flapping and hair waving in the breeze.

"Lizzie, come quick! There are some gentlemen here to see you!"

"To see me? Mariah, you must be mistaken. Who is it?"

"I don't know, I just got a glimpse through the trees, but they asked for _you_. Please hurry."

So I set out across the paths, hitching my skirt up so it doesn't get dirty; I still blush about the incident at Netherfield. When I enter the house through the back door, Charlotte rushes in as well.

"Oh Lizzie, thank goodness you came! That was very awkward. It's hard to talk to two men I don't know."

"Charlotte, please tell me. Who are they?"

"Why, it's Mr. Darcy, and his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam!"

"Mr. Darcy, here to see me?"

I try to pull my loose curls back into something manageable, and step into the sitting room, my surprised face meeting Mr. Darcy's slightly shocked expression. What did he want from me this time?

X

She comes running in, her hair slightly out of sorts, her eyes bright, off-setting her flushed cheeks. She seems to stumble for a moment, then says, "Good day Mr. Darcy, Colonel."

Of course she's wondering why I came. I was just visiting Lady Catherine, my aunt, which is always rather unpleasant, when she mentioned Mr. Collins' guests. Fitzwilliam had heard me talking on previous occasions about spunky Miss Bennet, and had urged that we go to meet her. I had played indifference, but inside I wanted to see her just as much as the Colonel. Probably more.

"How are your sisters, are they all in good health?"

She looks confused, for a moment, but once again gets back on track. "They are well, all of them."

"I'm happy to hear it. Would you like to go dine with us tomorrow at Rosings? I talked with Aunt and she said she would enjoy the company, and that perhaps you could play for us all."

Her cheeks tint an even deeper pink. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to listen to me, I'm really quite awful."

"You really must play beautifully. Will you come?" I must sound too eager, but I would appreciate her company very much.

A brief pause, then: "Of course, there is nothing in our schedule that conflicts."

I am continually growing more and more attached, which is going to be a problem, as her position in life is so decidedly below my own. And there is no one to talk to about this problem, for Fitzwilliam would brush it off, and Lady Catherine would be outraged. I am stuck, keeping my thoughts to myself, living in agony as long as I must keep them from her. Soon, I must tell her, but how? This is a matter I must address on another day.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Darcy came calling early. Dinner last night had been a pleasant affair, though a little awkward. Lady Catherine meanwhile had kept up a constant conversation with her nephew, leaving Mr. Collins' party to converse among themselves. When they moved to the sitting room, the two groups dispersed, and I found myself next to Colonel Fitzwilliam. He is a pleasant man, with enough wit to keep me laughing as he recounted his days in the army. The event as a whole had been carefree, and when I returned home, I didn't even think about that certain gentleman who had seemed keen to catch my eye.

But when Mariah's frantic chatter about Mr. Darcy woke me, my mood turned sour. I can't imagine why he would want to see me, or even why so early, for that matter. If only his cousin had come instead, for he is far more amiable.

Charlotte helped me get ready quickly, and when I came downstairs, I saw Mr. Darcy staring blankly out the window while Mr. Collins made sufficient chatter for both of them. Upon my arrival into the room, Mr. Darcy looked up sharply, and rushed to stand up.

"Miss Bennet, would you do me the honor of going on a walk with me through the gardens?"

"I would be delighted to watch the sun rise with you."

Mr. Darcy's normally calm composure broke, and his cheeks flushed momentarily.

"F-I'm sorry if this is too early -- I could come back later if you like..."

I smile warmly. He doesn't usually stumble like that. "No, I enjoy walking, and it will be nice to be outside before the noon heat sets in."

We walk outside into the sunlight, and he looks down at me, a hint of a smile ghosting his features. "How are your sisters? All in good health?" He always asks that.

"Yes, sir, all in good health."

We continue strolling down the path in a suddenly awkward silence, and I try to escape this by looking out across the pond. One would think that Mr. Darcy would be the one to talk, but he for some reason does not seem to want to initiate any conversation. Actually, he is staring at me quite more than what is considered polite. That man is most certainly a mystery, and I might enjoy this attention if he wasn't so proud.

X

She is beautiful today. She's beautiful every day. But as I walk with her through the gardens, watching the breeze play with her curls and color her pale cheeks a rosy pink, she creates such a pretty picture that it is all I can do not to tell her how I feel. Surely she must have some idea of my affections, but does she know the extent? And she has shown preference to Fitzwilliam. But why wouldn't she -- he is much more pleasant than I am, much more capable of talking to people other than close friends.

Soon, soon she will find out, but for now I must let myself be content with this silence, enjoying her company on this morning. For Lord knows she may not be so quiet when she finds out.

X

That man! All this time he's known about Jane and Bingley -- and he was the one to ruin her happiness. How could he? Only someone so callous, so concieted could do that. And why? Because of a difference in status? If they truly loved each other -- why, then must it be cut off? Bingley surely would not care. Why the hell should Mr. Darcy?

No. If he comes back, I shall not go out with him. Mr. Darcy is no longer a person whose company I shall ever endure. I am not arrogant, but I will not associate myself with people who would stoop so low as to separate two who loved each other.


End file.
